The Writers' Circle

A while ago, at the start of the year actually I was in Manchester, in the Arndale centre, in Hawkin's Bazaar. It's a shop full of pieces of shit... the kind of shop I LOVE. So many things to see, to play with, I'm in there and my hands will not keep still. So many wonderful pieces of shit! Little wind up toys, yo yo's, books, the things we all had as children but then cast aside as soon as adulthood came into view. Cast aside because... they're pieces of shit. But I'm a person who loves pieces of shit, keep your computer games, your mobile phones, your laptops, and give me a Rubik's Cube shaped pencil sharpener. 

Give me an Etch-A-Sketch, give me a Frizbee, give me a Space Hopper... give me something other people would declare is a piece of shit!! Hawkin's Bazaar is such a place, a wondrous cavern of crappy knick knacks. A treasure trove of rubbish, a tiny oasis wherein lies a veritable cornucopia of... complete and utter delightful, childish... shit!! 

I was with a friend and like the wonderful, beautiful kindred spirit that she is, she like me delighted in perusing the splendidly rubbish things on offer. And she found some things she wanted to buy so while she went to pay for her things I continued to browse. Then after she had bought her things we were about to leave when out of the corner of my eye something... or someone caught my attention... 

There, hanging from a hook was a blue, furry, monster puppet with a green nose and bulbous eyes. I picked him up instantly... his name was Bob. I don't know why, it just was... that's the name that came from his mouth when he introduced himself to my friend. Now, I'm not a ventriloquist... my mouth was moving more than his!! But I enjoyed playing with Bob for my friend, people in the store were looking but it didn't matter... Bob was being created in front of our eyes. It sounds like a melodramatic exaggeration but I swear he called to me. There were other puppets, so why this one? Why did this one end up talking with my friend and I? I knew instantly that this puppet... Bob would be coming home with me. So off to the till I went to pay. 

Since that day Bob has kept his little spot, on my chair, next to my bed. He is now a member of my family... I would even go so far as to (reluctantly) say I love him. Just don't ever tell him I said that... 

Oh... and one of the things my friend bought was a little gift for me. A rubber chicken, and when you press it's belly it lays an egg. What a wonderful piece of shit... the perfect ending to a great day.